


Foreign Skin

by orphan_account



Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Car Accident, Gen, Necromancy, Undead, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:09:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23642128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This body is made up of parts that aren't his.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Foreign Skin

It’s too late out for him to be awake, he knows that. Yet still, as Robbie wanders the city streets he can’t help but relish in the fact that for once he’s alone. It hurts, more than anything it hurts like hell, but it helps. Feeling the wind through his hair helps calm his nerves. His body feels foreign, but he didn’t want to think about it. Not now, at least. Now wasn’t the time to think. The streets of downtown were deserted. Not a single living soul moved out from the comfort of their homes.

Good thing he wasn’t alive.

He’d ran. He ran as fast as he could to get out of there. The feeling of the doctor’s hands against his wounds made him shudder. Stitches lined his body. These parts weren’t him, he knew that. With all that he knew about himself, he knew that his legs were far too long, and his right hand had different undertones than his left. It was sickening. His own body was sickening.

Wandering into a nearby public restroom, he stopped. It was the first time he’d seen a mirror since…

When was the last time he’d dared to look into his own eyes?

He steadied himself on the rusty sink and glared. It didn’t look human. His hair was his, and still as lively and messy as before, and his face was still soft, but there was a difference. His eyes were wrong. They were glossy and white. Not a single remnant of color left. He wasn’t even sure if they were open. He was an amalgamation of parts that surely didn’t fit.

Robert von Schneeplestein, he repeated his name in his head as many times as he could. He didn’t want to forget it. Not now, not ever. Everything else was quickly fading, but he was desperate to keep his name. Running through it all in his head, he formed an image. He was 19. His body was made of parts from different ages, he could tell that, but he was supposed to be 19. His birthday was in March—no, April? Wait, no. No, he couldn’t remember that far yet.

But who was the doctor? Why had the older man spoken to him so tenderly? How had he known his name? All these questions left more questions than before. A sense of desperation clung to his somewhat-beating heart. Desperation to learn the truth. He should’ve died, he knew that. The car accident should’ve killed him and whatever that thing was. But he was revived. His body was wrong, and he wasn’t exactly him anymore, but he was alive.

God, it was all painful. His heart beat against his ribcage, and it was surely too fast for a living person to handle. He didn’t breathe, he surely couldn’t. Every part that should’ve been human was altered. What he was wasn’t human. It was a beast, a freak of nature. He had become a mangled jumble of parts.

Robbie wasn’t human, not anymore.


End file.
